A Star Fell In Alabama

It’s been a long day in Lower Alabama. The den at Chez Lady Writer may be quiet but if you peer into the room at twilight you can make out the ChaRActers right where she left them: John Porter and NotLucas on the sofa, Guy of Gisborne in the LazyBoy, and Harry Kennedy standing at the window looking at the sky, right where he was the on the night a star fell.

They knew in their bones what it meant but none of them could bring themselves to speak and make it real.

Finally, Harry Kennedy cleared his throat. “Cup of tea, anyone?”

Guy grunted a negative but the other two just shook their heads.

“Are you sure you should go out there? We don’t want to intrude, yeah?” Porter asked. Harry shrugged.

“I suppose you’re right. Leave the family to it.”

Guy grunted again. NotLucas sighed heavily. “Something to add, Sir Guy?”

“We’re family. I mean, aren’t we? We’ve lived in her den for a decade, don’t we matter?”

“In the grand scheme no we don’t matter. You know that,” Porter said.

Harry chuckled softly. “We mattered to her.” His smile widened.

“Do you remember when we tried to take care of Mr. Lady Writer when he hurt his ankle?”

Porter smirked. “I’m amazed the poor man survived Guy’s tender care.”

Guy narrowed his eyes at him.

“Or the time her cats nearly castrated him?” NotLucas laughed.

Guy sniffed a manly sniff. “Or the time we all wore even more black than usual to right your ridiculous plot.”

NotLucas laughed out loud. “She said the writing drove her crazy, she just couldn’t bear it –“

“She loved you,” Guy interrupted. “She loved all of us.”

The shadows lengthened into dusk. Porter cleared his throat. “One of us should say something.”

Harry spoke up. “I don’t trust myself to speak extemporaneously but a few lines from a poem I read on her shelves seem fitting.” He took a deep breath.

“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.”

The ChaRActers stood together at the window and watched as the stars came out. A new one was glowing softly near the horizon. Guy turned to the others and found he was alone.

“Thank you for loving me into being,” he whispered and closed his eyes. In the next moment he stepped into a shadow, and joined the evening breeze.

*****************************************************

Though a newspaper obituary has not yet been published a notice has appeared. There is a Guestbook if you want to leave condolences for her husband and family.

https://www.dunklinfh.com/obituary/angela-long

These People 9

The one who smiled sweetly.

Wash your hands, wear a mask, get vaxxed.

These People 8

The one who longed for home.

The one who went home.

The one who flew free.

Please wash your hands and wear a mask.

These People 6.5 or 7

The one who was quiet.

Wash up. Mask up.

These People 6

The one who loved her sister.

The one with the dolls.

The one who was shy.

Please. Wash your hands. Wear a mask. Please.

These People 5

The one who loved PB&J.

Wash your hands and mask up, please.

These People 4

The one who fell in love with his wife every day when he met her again for the first time.

The one who drank ginger ale for breakfast.

Wear a mask. Wash your hands.

These People 3

The one who loved Elvis.

The one who wanted to talk to his son.

Please wear a mask. Please wash your hands.

These People 2

The one who loved Twizzlers.

Wear a mask. Wash your hands.

These People

This is not a light, funny post. I’m going to talk about some people who are heavy on my heart right now and play a sad song at the end so prepare yourself.

If you read my reunion post you may remember that I was applying to nursing school and, yes, I was accepted and am happily studying the Muscular system. I’ve been working at a nursing home for the last few years. Our facility has been on COVID-19 lockdown since our governor issued the order.

You may remember I live in Pennsylvania where our governor actually gives a shit about the lives in this commonwealth. You may not like him but thanks to his “draconian” orders and the leadership of Dr. Rachel Levine, and our administrator who actually listened and made sure we were in compliance even though she didn’t vote for him, we went months without an outbreak. Department of Health recommendations changed weekly, daily, hourly, and all we could do was try to keep up.  We talked about how we could keep our residents safe, about how it would move through the building like wildfire once it came. 

A couple of weeks ago, it came. In the last fourteen days we’ve lost ten residents. This is about them.

The one who loved getting her nails done.

The one who loved horses. 

The one who voted for the first time this year.

The one who was on every committee, welcomed every new resident, and played every card game we had.

The one who collected angels and was so proud to be a great-great-grandmother.

The one who sang to us when he was in a good mood.

The one who gave everyone a hard time, with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

The one who programmed her speech board to say “Hey, baby, nice butt!” 

The one who wanted to go to Penn State.

The one who called me her “dear friend” when she talked to her daughter.

Please wear a mask and social distance. Please wash your hands. Please check on your friends who work in healthcare. Thank you to those who’ve sent hugs and Richard Armitage reciting Byron to me. It’s appreciated more than I can tell you.

Love your people hard.

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